


Happy Anything-But-Valentine's Day

by southsidewrites



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Anti-Valentine's Day, Bromance, Comedy, Friendship, Gen, Humor, One Shot, Sexual Humor, kind of a crack fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-29 23:16:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17817419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidewrites/pseuds/southsidewrites
Summary: This Valentine's Day, Fangs and Sweet Pea are the only single ones in their friend group, and if they can't celebrate Valentine's Day, they're going to celebrate anything else they can.  Featuring Nation Organ Donor Day, Extraterrestrial Culture Day, National Condom Day, and many more!





	Happy Anything-But-Valentine's Day

Sweet Pea stared wistfully over the bar, watching as Hog Eye filled beer after beer for the never-ending line of Serpents.  It was Wednesday—buy one, get one night at the Wyrm.  It was also a school night, which meant that anyone under twenty-one was not getting served anything stronger than a coke.  The longer he had to listen to his friends ramble about their Valentine’s Day plans, though, the more Sweet Pea considered hurling himself over the bar and drinking straight from the tap.

“Earth to Sweet Pea,” Toni teased. “You still with us?”

“Hm? Yeah,” Sweet Pea muttered, taking a sip of his distinctly alcohol-free coke. “Still here.”

Fangs smirked, giving Sweet Pea a look that said he got it.  This was the first time in their four years of high school that more of their friends were in a relationship than not.  Sure, Jughead had been with Betty forever, but now Toni and Cheryl were together, and Joaquin and Kevin had finally made things official.  Therefore, their usual tradition of breaking out the good whiskey to split between the four of them over a few joints by the Quarry wasn’t going to happen.

“How about you, Sweet Pea?” Joaquin asked with a knowing smirk. “End up finding a girl for Valentine’s Day this year?”

“You know damn well I didn’t, Joaquin,” Sweet Pea replied sharply.  He twisted a ring around his finger, considering how much it would hurt if he punched Joaquin _ever-so-lightly_ in the face.

Joaquin smirked, took a sip of his drink, and turned to Fangs. “And you, Fogarty, any ladies or gentlemen in your life?”

Again, Fangs looked like he was thinking along the same lines as Sweet Pea. “Nope,” he replied shortly.

Toni rolled her eyes, shoving Joaquin slightly. “Be nice, dude.  They’re going to miss us this year.”

“No, we aren’t,” Sweet Pea snapped, shooting up from his seat. “Why would we miss you?”

She bit back a laugh at the boys’ matching surly expressions. “I don’t know, maybe because you’re going to have to find something else to do this year so you don’t sit around moping about being single?”

Fangs rolled his eyes. “As a matter of fact, we already had a plan.”

“And what’s that?” Toni asked, crossing her arms over her chest expectantly.

“Because, um,” Fangs stammered. “We’re, uh, going to be celebrating other holidays!”

“Oh really?” Her eyebrows rose in genuine surprise—she hadn’t expected him to have even a semi-rational answer. “And please tell me, Fangs, what other holidays are on the same day as Valentine’s Day?”

“It’s a surprise,” he retorted. “And you’ll find out tomorrow.”

Sweet Pea’s eyes had narrowed with confusion as he watched the conversation.  _Other holidays?  What other holidays?  Did I agree to this plan?  I didn’t think I drank that much this weekend._

Toni scoffed and took a sip of her drink. “Sure thing, Fangs.  Sure thing.”

* * *

 

When Sweet Pea walked out of school the next day, Fangs was waiting for him.

“Alright, so I’ve got a plan for today, and—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sweet Pea snapped, giving him a confused look. “Plan for today?”

“Well, yeah, we’ve got to do something for anti-Valentine’s Day, right?”

“I thought you were kidding, dude.”

Fangs scoffed, pulling a small notebook and a pen out of his pocket. “No, I wasn’t kidding.  I mean, I’m not just going to sit around getting drunk with you because I’m way too young to lead _that_ depressing of a life, so I’ve made us a plan.”

“Okay, what is it?” Sweet Pea asked, sighing as he rolled his eyes.  He crossed his arms over his chest to watch as Fangs flipped to the right page in the tiny notebook. “I’m not saying yes, yet, but you’re right about us being too young for that level of weeknight drinking.”

“Alright, first, National Library Lover’s Day.”

“Woah, woah, woah, I’m going to stop you right there.” Sweet Pea gave him a hard look. “We’re _not_ celebrating National Library Lover’s Day.”

Fangs scoffed. “Oh, fuck no.  That’s just first on my list because I was in the library for study hall today looking up holidays for this list, and there was a poster above the computer.” He shook his head. “Nah, we’re going to start with Ferris Wheel Day because that should be an easy one. 

“How on earth will that be easy—it’s Riverdale in December.  Where the hell are we going to find a Ferris Wheel?”

Fangs’ lips drew together in a hard frown as he considered the dilemma.  Then, his eyes lit up. “We could always make one.”

“Make one?” Sweet Pea gave him a skeptical look. “Out of what?”

“I have an idea.”

* * *

 

“Miguel, stop it,” Sarah whined, yanking her phone back from her brother. “Mom, Miguel’s being annoying.”

“I’m aware,” Maria answered, shaking her head as she walked up to the house.  Fangs’ truck and Sweet Pea’s bike were in the driveway, and she silently prayed that her son hadn’t already dipped into her stash of good whiskey.  She pushed open the door, and her jaw dropped, but not for the reason she expected.

“You need more glue, dumbass,” Sweet Pea snapped, holding a bottle of Elmer’s glue in Fangs’ face. “The whole thing’s on the brink of collapse.”

Fangs scoffed and took the glue, dabbing it onto some cotton swabs. “It is not on the brink of collapse, Sweet Pea. You’re being dramatic.”

Maria opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking between her son, his friend, and the _thing_ sitting between them.  It was vaguely circular-shaped, constructed out of wire hangers, popsicle sticks, cotton swabs, and what appeared to be toilet paper rolls and red solo cups.  The entire living room looked like it had been repeatedly smashed by a trash can—there were cups, paper, glue, and other miscellaneous supplies everywhere.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” Maria spat, each word coming out with the intensity of a shout. “And what have you done to my living room?”

Behind her, Miguel and Sarah were snickering—each had their phone in hand to take pictures of the disaster.

“Mom, we made a Ferris Wheel,” Fangs said, gesturing to the _thing_ like it was obvious.

“Because it’s Ferris Wheel Day,” Sweet Pea added, still gluing pieces of paper to his creation.

Again, Maria was at a loss for words.  Once they said it, she did have to admit that the thing may have been a Ferris Wheel.  More importantly, though, the entire floor was a gluey, papery mess, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming. “Ferris Wheel Day?”

“Yeah, we’re celebrating all the other February 14th holidays that aren’t Valentine’s Day,” Fangs replied, his voice getting smaller as he realized just how angry his mom was. “And, um, we thought this might be fun.”

“ _Fun_?”

“Uh, oh,” Sarah muttered, ducking around her mom to get a closer look at the Trash Wheel. “Now you’re gonna get it.”

“Mom, Mom, it’s okay,” Fangs said, quickly standing up.  He was holding his hands out, ready to defend himself in case the shorter woman lunged. “We’ll clean it all up.”

“You better,” she growled. “I’m going to go into my room to change and get ready for my date tonight, who’s coming here, by the way, and by the time I get back, I want this room to be spotless.”

“Yes ma’am,” he gulped.

“Good.”  With a parting glare, she stormed into her room.

“She’s going to kill you,” Miguel observed, flopping onto the couch. “Like, kill you dead.”

“Not if I’m not here,” Fangs said, hurriedly grabbing his coat and boots.  Next to him, Sweet Pea was doing the same. “Miguel, Sarah, how much would I have to pay you guys to take care of this mess for me?”

“Twenty bucks,” Miguel offered.

Sarah gave her brother a hard look. “ _Each.”_

With a glance at Sweet Pea, Fangs nodded. “Deal.”

Sweet Pea smirked. “You guys really should have asked for more—that glue in the carpet is going to be a bitch.”

“Wait—” Sarah called, but they were already out the door, hopping into the truck and zooming down the driveway.

“Nice, Sarah,” Miguel said, pulling the trash can out of the kitchen. “Now she’s going to kill us, too.”

* * *

 

“Alright,” Fangs mused as he drove, aimlessly picking streets as he went. “I’d call Ferris Wheel Day a rousing success.  What’s next on the list?”

“Um—” Sweet Pea glanced at the list, trying to make out Fangs’ terrible handwriting. “National Organ Donor Day.”

Fangs’ eyebrows furrowed. “Well, shit.  That’s definitely not an easy one.  Got any ideas?”

“I don’t know, man,” Sweet Pea said, running his hand through his hair as he glanced out the window. “I mean, it’s not like we can just up and donate our organs without finding some sketchy-ass black market surgeon.”

“True.”

“Nor do I particularly want to part with any of mine at this particular juncture in my life,” Sweet Pea added, glancing down at his torso as if to check that everything was still there.

“Also, true.” Fangs bit his lip.  Thoughtfully, he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “What about blood?”

“What about it?”

“Is blood an organ?”

“No,” Sweet Pea scoffed. “Blood is not an organ.”

“Okay, sure,” Fangs agreed. “Blood is not an organ, but it’s the only thing from our bodies that we can just up and donate without dying or doing something sketchy.”

A thoughtful look came over Sweet Pea’s face, and his lips curved into a grin. “Or is it?”

“What are you talking about, man?  Neither of us has hair long enough for locks of love, and it’s not like we can just walk in and donate bone marrow.”

“But there is one other thing we can donate,” Sweet Pea said, watching expectantly as he waited for Fangs to catch on. “Something that one day has the _potential_ to be organs.”

A look of recognition flashed over Fangs’ face, and then a slow blush crept up his neck. “Sweet Pea, can we even do that?  Like, aren’t there eligibility rules and shit?”

Sweet Pea shrugged, pulling out his phone to do a quick search. “We’re both eighteen,” he started, reading off the screen. “In good health, have no issues in performance…” He trailed off, giving Fangs a pointed look. “Right?”

“Of course, I don’t,” Fangs snapped. “No issues at all, thank you very much.”

“Than I don’t see why not,” Sweet Pea answered. “And hey, I think we happen to have _great_ genes—the world could use a few more little us’s running around.”

“I feel like this isn’t something we should just dive right into, Sweet Pea,” Fangs replied, his eyes still narrowed with concern. “What if—like—what if—something could— _someone_ could—”

“Could what, Fangs?  You afraid some random Riverdale lesbians are going to stroll into the donor clinic, flip through the pictures, and recognize you?”

“Not only lesbians use sperm donors, Sweet Pea!” he shouted. “And maybe I am—I mean, that’s kind of weird, isn’t it, donating sperm?”

“No,” he scoffed. “And take a left up here.”

Fangs complied, turning left even though he still wasn’t sure if he’d go through with it.

“Anyway,” Sweet Pea went on. “It’s not weird—it’s giving someone who wants to start a family a wonderful gift.”

“A wonderful gift?  Really, Sweet Pea, you think your—”

“I do, as a matter of fact,” Sweet Pea cut him off.  “And there are some people who would be thrilled to have one day.  So, are you in or not?  We can always go back to the whole black-market organ donor thing, too.”

Fangs sighed, clenching his fists around the steering wheel and then relaxing slightly. “Yeah, man, I’m in.”

* * *

 

Sweet Pea tapped his foot impatiently as he looked at his phone.  Fangs had been gone for close to thirty minutes now, and he was getting antsy.  The room was filled with other guys like him, some still filling out the massive pre-donation questionnaire, and others just waiting for a room.  Maybe the room that Fangs was so rudely hogging.

He glanced down at his phone again.  They both went in at the same time, close to thirty-five minutes ago. _What the hell is taking him so long?_  Briefly, Sweet Pea considered going to the counter to ask them if they had proof of life.  Before he could work up the nerve to do it, though, Fangs was walking back into the waiting room, staring more at the floor than anything else.

Grinning, Sweet Pea stood up, wrapping his arm around his friend’s shoulder as they walked toward the door together. “Jeez, man, took you long enough.”

“What do you mean?” Fangs asked, finally looking up and meeting his eyes now that they were out of the crowded waiting room. 

“I was out like a half hour ago.”

His eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Fangs’ face scrunched up in a look that was caught somewhere between shock and disgust. “So, you’re telling me that the cold, cramped, grey little closet of a room was a perfectly conducive environment to you getting off in a cup in five minutes flat?” Fangs lips curved into a grin, and he had to bite back a smirk.  “Shit man, maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t have a date this year.”

Sweet Pea’s eyebrows knitted together in a furious expression.  Then, his shoulders slumped, and he shook his head. “Fuck, man, when you put it like that… _shit_.”

Fangs rolled his eyes and started the car. “I’m just saying, that was definitely not how I hoped to get off on Valentine’s Day.”

Turning up the radio, Sweet Pea laughed. “Really?  And here I thought that was always how you spent it.”

Fangs shot him a glare.

“But hey, at least we’ll always have this moment.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The memory of jerking off into cups just a wall away from each other,” Sweet Pea mused, biting back a laugh. “Now that’s a fucking great story if I ever heard one—definitely the kind of weird material that’ll get us dates for next year.”

“Sweet Pea,” Fangs said, his voice completely level. “I am never speaking of this again.”

* * *

 

“Alright, man,” Sweet Pea said as they walked out of Pop’s, takeout bags in hand. “Since that last one took fucking forever, we’re going to need to speed up our timeline a bit if we want to get through all these holidays tonight.”

Fangs shook his head tiredly as he popped a fry in his mouth. “Since when did you get so invested in this?”

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. “I am not _invested_ in this—it’s just that now we’ve started, I kind of have to finish.  So, what’s left on the list?”

Fangs rolled his eyes and pulled out the list. “We’ve got Extraterrestrial Culture Day, National Condom Day, Statehood Day in Arizona, and—”

“Wait, stop.” Sweet Pea cut him off, throwing his arm out to force the shorter boy to lurch to a stop as well. “I have an idea.”

“Should I be worried?”

“With me?  Never.”

* * *

 

“So, are we sure this isn’t in any way illegal?” Fangs asked, turning so Sweet Pea could zip him up.

“Absolutely positive.” Sweet Pea yanked the zipper shut and turned. “Do me?”

“Mhm.” Fangs pulled the zipper shut on Sweet Pea’s lime-green morphsuit.  It was a perfect match for his own, accessorized only with psychedelic-patterned shorts and headbands with sparkly googly eyes—the ultimate low-budget, last-minute alien costume.

“Now, we just need the flags,” Sweet Pea said, glancing at the weird pile of supplies that had collected from the store. “Got the safety pins.”

“Yup.” Fangs tossed him a box, and they got to work pinning the assortment of tiny Arizona flags they had printed off all over their chests and backs.  By the time they were done, they were not only aliens, but aliens with a deep appreciation for the state of Arizona. 

Sweet Pea looked down at himself, unable to contain a short laugh. “We look so fucking ridiculous.”

“You’re not wrong.” Fangs smirked, handing him a shopping bag full of condoms. “Ready to do this?”

* * *

 

“Hello ma’am,” Sweet Pea said, inserting himself in the line for the concession stand. “May I interest you in a fun fact about extraterrestrial culture?”

The woman gave him a disturbed look, glancing down at his tight shorts and shoving her young daughter behind her. “No.”

“Well then, have a condom and a nice day!” He handed her a condom before she could react and moved on to the next person.

Fangs was doing the same thing on the other side of the gym—in his lime green alien costume, Sweet Pea could pick him out easily.  They were at the Riverdale High JV basketball game against Centerville, and the gym was absolutely packed with students, parents, and spectators.  Sweet Pea and Fangs were quickly starting to make a scene as all the mom’s gawked at their outfits and the teen boys rushed them for free condoms.

“Hey, dude, can I get a condom?” A kid approached Fangs, his longish hair slicked back into a bad attempt at a style.  He couldn’t have been taller than Fangs’ shoulder, and he was flanked by two other boys, both trying to hide their guffaws.

Fangs gave the kid a skeptical look, crossing his arms over his chest. “How old are you, kid?  Twelve?”

His friends laughed harder, gripping their sides as the leader’s face turned bright red.

“No, I’m fifteen!”

Fangs’ eyebrows rose skeptically. “Sure, you are, and I’m thirty.  Try asking again after you finish puberty, alright?”  Rolling his eyes, Fangs walked over to join Sweet Pea.

“How’s it going for you, man?” Sweet Pea, cringing as one of the kids on the Riverdale team missed an easy basket.

“Not bad,” Fangs replied, glancing down at his mostly empty bag. “I got like three people to listen to my alien facts.”

“Damn, I didn’t get any.  I did have two soccer moms call me a pedophile, though, which is ironic seeing as they were the middle-aged women who kept glancing quit noticeably at my shorts.” Sweet Pea made a face, shaking it off.  Then, biting his lip thoughtfully as he watched the game, he asked a question. “Fangs, do you think I’m less approachable than you?”

“Oh absolutely.”

“ _What?”_

Fangs scoffed and looked over at him. “No shit, dude.  You’re like two hundred pounds of resting bitch face and bad temper.  Of course, you’re not approachable.”

Sweet Pea’s fists clenched.  “Fangs, I’m going to fucking—” He cut off when he saw Fangs’ big, goofy smile. “Point taken.”

They both turned their attention back to the game for a moment, and then there was a murmur in the crowd, and a woman’s voice cut through the din.

“Right there, Mr. Weatherbee!”

The boys looked up with a start to see a very angry Mr. Weatherbee moving toward them at a near jog.  Fangs gulped hard, and Sweet Pea clutched his condoms.

“We’re screwed,” Fangs said.

“Just stay calm, dumbass,” Sweet Pea muttered, putting on his most charming grin. “Hello, Mr. Weatherbee.  Lovely to see you, tonight.”

“What the hell are you two up to this time?” Weatherbee snapped, fighting to keep his voice down. “And what on earth are you wearing?”

“Well, sir, we—”

“Never mind!  I don’t even care.  I just need you two out of this school—now.  You have ten seconds before I call the police.”

“The police?” Fangs argued. “For what?  Nothing we’re doing is—”

“TEN,” he boomed. “NINE, EIGHT—”

“Alright,” Sweet Pea said quickly. “Sounds like a plan!” Grabbing Fangs’ wrist, he darted toward the door of the gym, tossing his last few handfuls of condoms into the crowd. “Happy Extraterrestrial Culture Day!” he shouted.

“And National Condom Day!” Fangs added, tossing his own condoms into the crowd. “And Arizona Statehood Day!”

Weatherbee was powerwalking after them now, so they started running, ducking through the crowd as their sparkly googly eyes bobbed on their heads.  Sweet Pea slammed into a popcorn cart, nearly taking the whole thing down before he regained his balance.  Fangs dipped between a young couple attempting to make out, shouting something about condoms as they flew apart.

Somehow, they made it out of the building and back to the truck.  They fell into the seats with a sigh.  Then, Fangs looked at Sweet Pea, an excited glimmer in his eye. “Ready for the final holiday?”

“You know it.”

* * *

 

Cautiously, Sweet Pea crept around the trailer, signaling for Fangs to follow. “Looks like they’re not home,” he whispered.

“Do you still have a key?” Fangs replied, his voice low. “Or are we going to have to pick it?”

“Nah, I still have a key,” Sweet Pea replied. “Even if Jughead whined that it makes him _‘uncomfortable’_ knowing I could show up in his bedroom at any given moment.”

“I can see why, man.  That would make me uncomfortable, too.”

“You do remember I have a key to your house, too, right?  Maria gave it to me that summer my electric got turned off.”

“Fuck,” Fangs muttered. “Show up in my bedroom and I’ll fucking end you.”

“Sure, dude.” Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get back to the mission.” He snuck around to the front of the trailer, unlocking the door and slipping inside.

As soon as they got in the door, Hot Dog rushed toward them, bounding onto Fangs and trying to like his face.

“Hey, man,” Fangs laughed, crouching down to scratch the fluffy dog’s ears.  Hot Dog swiped at him with his paw, nearly knocking his alien eye headband off. “Good to see you, buddy.”

Sweet Pea grabbed the leash, clipping to Hot Dog’s collar and grabbing a treat out of the jar. “Alright, bud, ready to go for a walk?”

At the w-word, Hot Dog’s entire body started wiggling with excitement.  He nearly dragged Sweet Pea out of the trailer, tugging on the leash as Sweet Pea fumbled to re-lock the door.  Quickly, they snuck back around the trailer, darting through the neighbor’s yards until they were a safe distance away.

Sweet Pea grinned, leaning forward to scratch Hot Dog’s ears. “Back to my place?”

“Yup, and then we need to get out of these damn alien costumes.”

“Agreed.”

* * *

 

Everyone in the Jones trailer was on high-alert, pacing, frantically sending texts, and fingering the brass knuckles and pocket knives lurking in their pockets.  Even Kevin, Cheryl, and Betty were there, their Valentine’s Day celebrations cut short by the 911 text sent by FP to all the young Serpents.  They were clustered together in a corner and staying out of the way as the Serpents mobilized around them.

Sweet Pea and Fangs rushed in, both breathless with fierce looks on their faces.

“FP, what’s the emergency?” Sweet Pea asked, fighting to keep his face straight.

“Hot Dog,” FP answered, looking up from his laptop. “We think the Ghoulies got him.”

“You’re kidding,” Fangs said, rushing past Toni to get closer to FP. “How long’s he been gone?”

“I’m not sure.” FP was typing quickly. “Last month, I got the place wired with camera’s, though, so we should know in just a minute.”

Sweet Pea and Fangs looked at each other, twin fear flashing across their gazes.  Luckily, they had still been in costume, so they probably wouldn’t be as recognizable dressed as lime green aliens.

“Alright, we’ve got the footage.” FP slid back his chair a little, leaving room for everyone to circle around the screen. “Let’s see who these fucking punks are.” He hit play, and the silent, grainy footage started. 

Everyone watched in silence as two tall, bulky, men in green morphsuits crept into the frame.  It was too dark to see clearly, but it looked like there was something white bobbing above their heads.

“What the…” Joaquin muttered. “Those don’t look like Ghoulies.”

“No,” Toni agreed, shaking her head. “They look like—” She cut off, considering her words. “This is so dumb, but they look like aliens.”

“No, you’re right, Toni,” Jughead agreed, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “It does.”

The figures unlocked the trailer and went inside, reemerging a moment later with Hot Dog.

“Them bastards had a key,” FP growled. “Who the fuck has a key?”

Sweet Pea’s lips were pressed into a firm line, his well-practiced poker face coming in handy. “Could’ve stolen one,” he said. “Or paid off a locksmith—the Ghoulies have done it before.”

“Okay, sure,” Joaquin acknowledged, turning away from the screen to pace. “They have, but never in creepy costumes.  Ghoulies would have made it known this was them, not snuck out without a trace—hell, they even re-locked the door.  What kind of dog thieves re-lock the door?”

“Fuck if I know,” Fangs said, crossing his arms. “Kind of a weird coincidence, though, if you ask me.”

“What do you mean, Fangs?” Toni asked, her lips pursed. “How is this a coincidence?”

Fangs shrugged, biting his lip to keep from smiling. “Didn’t you know it’s National Pet Theft Awareness Day?”

There was a beat of silence, and then Jughead groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.  You idiots.”

“What?” FP asked, his eyes darting suspiciously between the kids. “What’s going on?”

“These idiots,” Toni started, gesturing at Fangs and Sweet Pea. “Decided to celebrate all the holidays that _aren’t_ Valentine’s day today.”

“Such as National Pet Theft Awareness Day,” Sweet Pea offered with a polite smile.  His tone was light. “Because it’s something all pet owners really need to be aware of.”

“Boy, I’m gonna—”

“Stop, FP,” Joaquin said, holding the older man back with an eye roll.  He turned his gaze to Fangs and Sweet Pea. “Hot Dog’s safe, right?”

Fangs nodded.

“Good.” He sighed, glancing across the trailer to where Kevin was sitting with Betty and Cheryl. “Now, I’m going to get the hell out of here because I was kind of in the middle of something until you morons went and ruined my night.”

“Ruined your night, did we?” Fangs asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“ _Fogarty_ ,” Joaquin threatened, his voice low.

Toni had a disappointed look on her face. “Why the hell were you guys dressed up like that?” she asked. “Just trying to be creepy as shit?”

“Well, you see—” Fangs started.

“No way you’re finishing that, boy,” FP cut him off. “Now I want my dog back here in the next twenty minutes, or you two are gonna be sorry.” He shook his head, running his hand through his slicked-back hair. “And goddamnit, try to find some dates next year—this shit’s just too weird.”

“Agreed,” Toni said, already halfway out the trailer with Cheryl. “Seriously, guys, this shit’s weird.”

Everyone else murmured their agreements as they dispersed to return to their dates, leaving just Sweet Pea and Fangs alone in the trailer.

“Hey, Sweet Pea?” Fangs said.

“Yeah?”

“Happy anything-but-Valentine’s Day.”

Sweet Pea snorted, rolling his eyes. “Happy anything-but-Valentine’s Day, Fangs.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! If you liked this, be sure to leave a kudos and comment!


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